


I Don't Want To Talk About It

by NCISfan-28 (JaimiLee)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaimiLee/pseuds/NCISfan-28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or its characters.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I Don't Want To Talk About It

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or its characters.

It didn't surprise Tony all that much when he walked in to the NCIS gym and saw Ziva in her tank top and simple black yoga pants - even if they had been sent home hours ago - her hair was in a sloppy bun and stuck to the back of her neck due to the sweat where it had come loose. She had her back to him and was punching and kicking the punching bag that was hanging from the ceiling. The punching bag would swing back and she would send it back before it had a chance to return to its original - beginning - position.

He watched her and noticed that the ex-Mossad officer who always had pattern in her life was attacking the defenceless bag with no pattern at all. She was simply hitting it for the sake of hitting it.

"What have I done now?" He asked as he made himself known.

"You? Nothing," She replied as she delivered the final punch before turning to face him. Her face had a tinge of red and she was panting slightly as she tried to regain her breath, "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I could ask you the same question; but you have been in a bad mood for half the day. Either you got bad news or someone has pissed you off bad," He said.

"How about both?"

"Fair enough," He said, "Want to talk about it?"

"No," She said as she turned back to the punching bag.

"Do you want help?" He asked.

She turned back to him, "What? Are you going to be the punching bag?" She questioned doubtfully.

"If you'd like."

"No, I think I will be fine," She said.

He ignored her reply and stood behind the bag - holding it still for her, "What are you doing?"

"Helping you. You clearly don't want to talk."

"Big realisation there considering that I said that."

"Fair call," He stated, "Just hit the bag Ziva," He told her.

"You will regret that," She simply said with a barely noticeable smirk.

"Not as much as you would if you knocked this from the roof," He informed her, "You would be paying for it."

When she brought her hands to her chin he noticed that she wasn't wearing any boxing gloves or any form of hand wraps that he knew she had. He also noticed that her knuckles had begun to swell and turn red because of the force she was using.

"Are you crazy?" He asked.

"No," She said as she looked down at herself; her stance was right - left foot forward, right foot back about shoulder width apart.

"No? You'll break your knuckles or damage your hands or something," He said.

"I don't like using the gloves," Ziva replied.

"Hand wraps?"

"Teach you nothing. I like the pain that comes when I punch the bag, it keeps me going; it is an outlet. After a while you don't feel it," She explained, "It helps me think."

He looked at her doubtfully, "Okay, but don't come to me when you have split the skin of your knuckles."

She regained her composure, and set the punch up again. Once she got her momentum up she didn't stop. There was no pattern to her kicks and punches again.

"Are you going to tell me why you are here?" She asked between punches.

"Decided I should get some exercise," He smiled, "I actually needed some time to myself - my neighbour has a new boyfriend. They aren't exactly quiet."

He heard her chuckle once, "Are they reminding you that you are getting none?"

"For your information Ms David, I had a date the night before last, and it went extremely well. I don't care really what they do, but after working through the night last night it would be nice to get some sleep. I came here while I waited for them to finish. It's usually over by eleven."

"Why don't you talk to them?"

"Why ruin their fun?" He asked. Her forceful punches never ceased, even while talking. Tony was getting worn out watching her. The quick spontaneous movements she made were over before they began with the precision that could only be delivered by a trained killer.

Except Tony hadn't seen this side of Ziva in a while. The side where she let her hair down and let her true colours show. It showed that even with all the personal development she had been through in recent years she still was the assassin that the team grew to love, the person who wouldn't back down from a fight or bend over backwards to please people - not that she did that now. She was at a place in her life where everything to her made sense, it was on track. While there may be things that she would never find the answers to she was fine with it - it would always bother her and she would still be conscious of finding the answers; she would let the answers of the ancient questions find her. But something had disrupted the smooth pattern her life was currently on; and Tony knew this to be true because of the way she was and had been acting.

"Are you going to shed light on what you're doing here yet?" He asked.

"You know how your life can seem perfect; but then something happens that changes everything including your perspective of something?" She said as she hit the bag one more time - hard - before she walked to the bench where her water bottle was. She leant against the wall and slid to the floor. Tony walked over and joined her.

"So who are we talking about?" He asked.

"How do you know I am talking about someone?"

"Because the case didn't affect you that much," He said.

She sighed, "My father rang me the other day; I wasn't screening his calls, I was busy," She defended to no one, "But we played phone tag for a while. I mean when he would call would be at midnight when I'm asleep, and during that time I only answer calls from you, Gibbs, or McGee-"

"So you were screening his calls?"

"Only when I was asleep. I wouldn't have been able to comprehend anything he told me. Anyway; when he called earlier today while you were arresting that guy I answered. I got a small lecture on why I wasn't answering my phone. Then he told me he was remarrying."

"What's bad about that?"

"Nothing, good for him, he is finally focusing on something other than work. It just hurts knowing that I was twenty nine years too early for there to be any chance that he considers me as more than the daughter that would get to Mossad," He listened to her silently while she let him in.

"Maybe it's not too late. Perhaps him calling you is his way of saying that he is ready for some kind of relationship with you," He said.

"But a part of me thinks it is, another part wants to give him another chance; but the other side is arguing saying that the only thing that will be gained is more disappointment. It has been the only thing that was to be gained by any chance I have given him."

"Are you going to the wedding?" Tony asked.

"I do not know I don't really want to meet the person who is taking my mother's place."

"It gets easier," He stated, "When I lost my mum I resented my father for going out and getting remarried, it was a few years after but it didn't mean it was any easier. No woman - no matter how much I liked them - would be my mum. As soon as they began treating me like THEIR son, I started acting up. Maybe it was the reason he sent me to boarding school..." He contemplated.

"How did your mum die?" Ziva asked softly.

"Breast cancer. She had it for years. They caught it too late," He replied, "So as a word of advice, check every month. I'll come and watch sometime," He added try to lighten the mood.

"Or not. And just so you know, I check every month; but so should you, men get breast cancer too. It must have been hard losing her at, what were you?" She said as she thought back, "Eight?"

"Yeah, a little - I guess. I was young. I didn't know exactly what was happening; I knew she had to stay in the hospital. Palliative care I think she got to - but no one told me that, I just thought of it as hospital, I don't think any one wanted to explain what palliative care actually meant," Tony said, "How about your mum?"

"I was thirteen; Tali was eleven. A case of wrong place, wrong time," Ziva said.

"C'mon Ziva, give me more than that," Tony told her.

"There is nothing more to it. She was in killed in a road side bomb. That is all."

"So you have no thoughts about what happen; no feelings towards it?" He questioned. He knew he hit a nerve when she shot him a warning glare before screwing the top back on her drink bottle and standing from her spot next to him. She moved to the bench, grabbed her jacket and was about to leave when Tony grabbed her arm.

"Tony let me go," She warned.

"No," He replied, "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Right now I'm thinking 'how dare you tell me I have no thoughts or feelings about my mother's death'. Especially coming from someone who has lost their mother them self. Now, let me go," She said as the contempt moment between them past and her past frustration turned to anger.

"Ziva, I didn't mean it that way," He said.

"Really? Because that's how it sounded," He shot back before he finished.

"I just want you to open up about it a little. You don't talk about her, you don't talk about your sister, you don talk about your brother. At some point something has got to give Ziva, the longer you don't talk about it the closer the giving gets."

"Well telling me I have no thoughts or feelings isn't the way to do that," She said.

"C'mon," He said in a soft voice as he tugged her in the direction of the bench her belongings were previously on, "What is said here; stays here."

"I don't want to talk about her Tony," Ziva replied with sadness in her voice as she took a seat next to him.

"Why not?"

"Because there are a lot of things that make sense now when I think back than when they did when I was younger - you should understand that - I now know that there was a fight for custody. One that was well hidden. Ari played a part in that. I know that my mother left my father because she didn't want us to be like him - not because she wanted out. I know that my mother still loved my father, and I know that he never knew that," She said. Tony was surprised with how open she was being, "I don't want to talk about it because then I will try and find the answers to questions I will never get the answers. I have dealt with that and talking about it will just bring it all up again."

"You blame yourself for your parents divorce?" He asked.

"No, well, yes; to a degree. If they never had us, then they would have still been together. I am not sure whether she was okay with being the Mossad Officer's wife. Especially as he moved up the ranks. I think when she saw the influence he was having and Tali and me that made her decision, and she told him that she was leaving him. I remember, I was awake, I was not meant to be. She gave her reasons, and she also said something about our safety," Ziva explained.

"What about the custody thing?"

"It was my aunt verses my father. We were to go to my father because of the immediate relation. But my aunt fought because she was on the same page as my mother, we ended up living with my father but staying with Aunt Nettie when he left for assignments," She said.

"Has that got something to do with not wanting your father to remarry? And you've contradicted yourself; you said that you were twenty nine years too early, but from what I understand from that he cared about you."

"I never said he did not care about me - although in recent years I could happily debate - I said that he considers me the daughter he trained for Mossad; that doesn't mean he did not care. My parents divorcing have nothing to do with it. I couldn't care less that he was getting remarried. It is just; sometime when I think of him and then me, I am almost a reflection. I will never be able to have a family because I am too consumed in my work. I will be the person my husband take the children from. I am the one who would be blind for the love he held for me and only see him leaving, not for the kids," She said, "I see him; I see my future."

"I have no doubt that when the time comes you will be able to get balance. Besides, if you were to get married and have kids then Gibbs would let you go home at a reasonable hour and probably not wake you up at two in the morning."

"Do you really have that much faith in me?" She asked, "My whole life - aside from school - has been about work. You think that when I get married to the right person I will magically find balance?"

"Well, no, not magically, it will just happen. Are you going to go to his wedding?" He asked changing the topic and repeating his previous question.

She looked at him, "You asked that before, I do not know," She repeated, "What did you do when your father remarried?"

"Our situations are different; my father was married at least three times before I finished college, and my father isn't the director of Mossad, and he didn't send me to the Sahara desert," Tony said.

"Why do you keep bringing that up?"

"Because it's my strongest defence against him that you actually relate to," He replied.

"He said I could bring one person; maybe if I go you can come with me. He won't like it but it would be better than talking Gibbs," She suggested.

"If you really want me to go; I'll be there," He smiled.

"Would your neighbours be finished?" She asked as the taunting tone returned to her voice.

Tony looked at his watch, "Not for another half an hour."

"Do you want to get a drink?" She asked.

"Okay," He replied as he stood and waited for Ziva to put her jacket on.


End file.
